


Operant Conditioning

by gardnerhill



Series: Joan's Beez [7]
Category: Elementary (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Bees, Community: watsons_woes, Gen, Prompt Fic, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-12-03 16:18:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11535897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gardnerhill/pseuds/gardnerhill
Summary: Joan Watson teaches some people the concept of cause and effect.





	Operant Conditioning

**Author's Note:**

> For the 2017 July Watson's Woes Promptfest prompt #16, **A cardboard box**. Whether it contains human ears or nothing at all, include a cardboard box somewhere in your entry.

Monday.

Pam parked her taxi around the corner and headed down the city block. She held a cubical cardboard box, which could have held something about the size of a bowling ball. She walked most of a block, until she’d heard three comments.

“Hey, fatass!”

“C’mon Grandma, how about a smile? I’m talking to YOU, you fat bitch!”

Generic oinking noises. Yeah, that counted.

Pam smiled, about-faced to confront the squad of unwashed, flabby men who sat on stoops on this street with ugly grins, and opened her box.

#

Wednesday.

Five steps for Martha Hudson down the street before she heard three foul comments on her build, her breasts and her gender. About-face, turn, open the cardboard box practically in the face of one man who’d gotten far too close. And grin.

#

Saturday.

Luisa kept the box atop another as if she’d been shopping, her stylish heels clicking down the sidewalk. She’d honestly meant to wait until she’d gotten three catcalls – but the second man called her the N-word. She tipped the box and let it thump open behind her as she kept on walking.

#

Tuesday.

Joan got halfway down that street. One comment on her race, one order to smile, one guy who wouldn’t leave her side trying to get him to talk to her. “Here,” she said, and shoved the box into the startled guy’s hands, flinging open the top flaps.

#

Friday.

The bag lady shambled past the men pushing her shopping cart of stuff along, a cardboard box wobbling atop the other belongings.

One comment about what her vagina must smell like, a call of _Puta_ , and then an offer of a buck for a blowjob.

The crone picked up the box and turned around.

Sudden silence from all the men. And terror in their faces – some already turning to run away.

It worked. These imbeciles could actually be taught.

Still, a lesson was a lesson. Sherlock opened the box.

#

Tuesday.

Emily walked the length of that street block. She carried only her purse. Not a sound from the men on the stoops.

#

Friday night.

“Three weeks.” Joan made a mark on the chart. "In three weeks we’ve altered behavior enough in that neighborhood so that it’s become safer for women to travel there undisturbed. Good job, everybody.”

A round of applause from all her volunteers in her downstairs office. Sherlock clapped as enthusiastically as everyone despite a little residual swelling on his hands from stings; he was the only person present who’d gotten blowback from the box’s contents.

“When do you write your paper on this?” Martha asked, to laughter from everyone.

“Don’t suppose you can sell those boxes of bees,” Luisa said wistfully. “I know about a hundred women who could use one, starting with my mom.”

Joan shook her head regretfully. “I’m afraid it’s a new species, and it’s as experimental as what we just did.”

“How’d you train the damn things?” Pam asked, setting down her tea mug.

“I didn’t. They… they seem to respond to me.” Joan smiled. “Perhaps it’s my pheromones, and they think I’m a big 2-legged flightless queen bee. And they definitely react differently to human males than females. Sherlock, I told you you weren’t needed on this exercise – it’s your own fault you got stung.”

“There is much I do not yet know about _Euglassia watsonia_ ,” Sherlock added. “This exercise has provided invaluable data about their behaviour, as well as retraining that of troglodytic males. A few stings from some misdirected workers is a small price to pay.”

“And now?” asked Emily.

Joan turned to the map of their borough pinned to the wall behind her, and drew a thick red line along the block. “That’s one.” She set down the red Sharpie and turned around. “Let’s vote on which street to clean up next.”

**Author's Note:**

> My original response to this 7/3/2016 prompt is [Les Enfants Perdus (The Stolen Children)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7380028).


End file.
